Miscomfort
by Aishoujo
Summary: Clark is depressed—not only is Lois Lane getting married to the most dreadful Luthor—but he is also on the verge of a crisis trying to differentiate between himself: Superman and Clark Kent. Can Bruce Wayne/AKA Batman/ help his distress? And why did he really come? Playful Fluff/Slash Bats/Supes


It was just one of those days that Superman loathed. Sitting alone in his motel room caressing a bottle of a light drill in his hands—half empty—while frozen to the edge of his bed. Every now and then he would take swigs of the unworthy taste that made his senses grow warm and immobilize his train of thought. Only for a moment though which caused him to take another swig of the delicate substance he stole from the JL's cafeteria.

Irresistible dark blue eyes, hair that you just want to run your hand against, a firm build—he wasn't called Man of Steel for nothing—and not to mention his secret identity which only a few were well aware of—including her—which he had thought would strengthen a bond he once found inseparable. And yet.. She had completely turned him down the worst way possible. Why? .. Why why? Didn't she say she loved him? No, didn't she say she loved _him_? Superman. Not Clark Kent. Superman.

Did it make a goddamn difference anymore?

They all preferred him over the other anyway — Superman over Clark. The notion wasn't entirely surprising. Superman fought against all injustices of the world with his almighty charm and rock solid body that made all the girls squeal for a touch. Clark Kent, however, was this dorky reporter with rectangular shaped glasses and nothing going on for him but a series of depressing turmoils that caused his heart to go rock solid in betrayal. Ouch, that one hurt.

And still, he continuously asked himself, _why_? Glaring towards the garbage can where possibly a dozen magazines and headline—newspapers were held captive before he took another swig of the sore liquid and a deep breath. He threw the now empty bottle at the wall— he didn't care if his neighbors complained, he really couldn't careless about anything at the moment much less the noise outside of loud rowdy adults who had a habit of walking the streets at night — singing, dancing, laughing, drunk — like typical rebels all over the city.

He heard a firm knock to his door and paused — curled up against his bed — he was ready to fall asleep and he realized he really didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment. With the noise he emitted already, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if it was actually the superintendent asking him to clear out.

The knocks continued to frequent, but he tried to hide over the covers as much as he could.

I'm sorry Mrs. Beadabantian. I'll stop using the walls to vent Mrs. Beadabantian.

He continued to breath lousily over his sheets, and it seemed his attempts of completely ignoring the problem(If only he could do it with every situation) worked for the frequent knockings ceased after a few minutes.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead against the bed. He wasn't as drunk as he would have liked to be. The sudden vibration of his phone caused him to jolt slightly and search within his damp pockets. He pulled out his phone and lightly played with the buttons before he placed it to his ear at the sixth ring. "Hell—o?"

"You idiot, come out here and open the door!"

Clark blinked and forced himself to sit up, "Bats?"

"Get on with it!"

It took a few moments for Clark to get to the door. He peeked through the hole to see the bulk billionaire conversing with his not so happy next door neighbor. He slowly opened the door, causing the heads to turn his way, before Bruce Wayne bowed in politeness and retreated inside. Clark shut the door almost instantly, and held his breath as he leaned against the door, the grumbles from outside growing quieter as Mrs. Beadabantian went back to her chambers.

"She's been eying me since I got here." Bruce grumbled under his breath in annoyance, "The least you could have done was keep the window open."

Clark didn't look at him rather muttered a "Sorry" under his breath.

Bruce huffed, as he took a whiff of the air and paused. ".. This place wreaks of alcohol. What the hell have you been doing since you left the station?"

"... Sorry." Clark muttered again, the sadness evident in his tone.

Bruce stared at Clark's fragile—yet overly large—body before he sighed from where he was and shook his head in distaste. ".. And you press me whenever I smoke."

"Why are you here Bats?"

Bruce blinked and thought about it for a second. "... Hm, I caught you leaving the cafeteria with the wine bottle. Actually, we all did—"

"Really?" Clark questioned.

"Well you didn't seem to do a good job of hiding it." Bruce pointed out, while holding a hand out as a potent gesture. "We all know you aren't _that_ big."

Clark scowled in reply, finally taking the time to turn around and look at him all while leaning against the door. He looked almost glued to it, Bruce noted as his eyes trained over his unsteady demeanor. He was sweating like crazy through his white striped shirt and his pants hung over his hips which threatened to come loose at any second without the support of its belt buddy. "I'm.. not in the mood for this Bats." He grumbled bitterly under his breath.

"So I've heard.. and seen.." Bruce mumbled, initiating another doubletake over his figure. "You cannot say you didn't see this coming. I mean, you and Lois were practically falling apart from the get go."

Clark frowned, "Now I wouldn't say that — "

"She saw Superman rather than Kent. Obsessed with more of danger—than a shy scheming reporter." He shrugged his shoulders at Clark's disapproval, "Is it such a surprise that she's marrying Luthor anyway? I get that you're brooding, but what flabbergasts me is the fact that you're drinking over such a pathetic topic."

".. You should know." Clark sighed, and Bruce felt the impact of his breath on his face even though they weren't quite in distance with each other. "You loved her too at one point."

"Infatuated more or less. But I was aware of her intentions which is why I didn't let her in."

"You don't let anyone in Bats. And besides, she was the one who dumped you."

The two went quiet. Clark wondered, when he didn't get any further reply, if he was right all along and yet Bruce hadn't allowed him to carry that thought further. Well, it helped more with Clark's sudden outburst.

"... Oh gods." Clark slobbered, his hands pressing to his face. "Why — why..? I.. I loved her so much Bats."

"I thought it would go somewhere. God, I'm such an idiot!" He hit the side of his head repeatedly, lightly, though it did seem a tad bit extreme for him especially with his headache that was passing on and that uneasy feeling that clenched within his stomach. "I knew she loved Superman, and I thought she could love me too! Why, why did I think that?"

"You've always been an oblivious man, Kent." Bruce argued considerably. He was slowly closing the distance between them—comfort reasons of course!

"As Superman or Clark?" Clark mumbled under his breath.

"Both. You practically have the same personality Kent."

Clark folded his arms over his chest and shook his head lightly. Dazzlingly. "That wouldn't make sense then. Why would she love Superman more than she does Kent?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, and continued forward—just a few more steps until he was right in front of him. Comforting.. yes, comforting! "I don't know, ask her — maybe it's the suit?"

"... Well the suit is pretty cool.." Clark thought to himself. By then, Bruce was already standing amongst him with a curious expression on his face as he was looking upon him — the idiot wasn't even aware he had gotten that far it seemed or rather he didn't really care. "But you know.. " Clark started which made Bruce's eye furrow, "You and Batman are a lot different."

"... Oh?"

"Yes, I mean.." Clark coffered up, "You show more emotion than he does. Batman wouldn't even have thought to come here — possibly send me a message in my email instead which is already filled at this very moment with all that junk mail I get!"

"So you're saying I show more emotion than _myself_?" He asked blankly.

"Precisely."

... Whatever. Bruce rolled his eyes, before he looked upon him once again with a serious expression on his face and the memory seemed to seep through his thoughts.

_"What is this?" Batman asked as a magazine was thrown in front of him — New York Weekly—with a frighteningly noticeable picture of Lois Lane on the front cover attached to the arm of one Lex Luthor.  
_

_Flash shook his head. It was only minutes ago that Superman had walked out with a bottle of john and he himself had contemplated on following him. But he wasn't his best friend, oddly enough — Superman always had a special place for Batman in his life more than he did others.. Strange with how much they bicker with each other. "Luthor and Lane are getting married.. It's why Superman's been so depressed this entire week, you heard?"_

_"I have." Batman mustered out, as he looked down to his hands clasped together and situated over the table. "But I don't get how that remotely affects me." _

_"Well you just saw what he did! Seeing this made him go mad!"_

_"And?"_

_".. I think you should go after him."_

_There was silence — Flash shut his eyes quickly before one opened to look at his reaction. Batman was simply staring at his hands, though he wasn't able to decipher his expression at the moment from the way his mask covered most things. "And why would I do that?" _

_Flash contemplated whether he should bring it up or just go find Superman himself. The second idea was seeming quite better. For one, there was a lesser chance of him bleeding to death. "Because you're his friend and I've seen the way you look at him Bruce."_

_Silence, again. It felt simply horrific - more for one than the other. "What are you on about West?" He asked bitterly under his breath. _

_"Listen, all I know is that he needs a friend right now and you're one of his most valuable friend. And plus, you both could probably .. you know, empathize with each other! I mean you both dated Lane at one point and time!"_

_Batman looked at him which caused him to take a step back — from his explanation and from the table. _

_"It's your decision if you want too, I mean — I'll go over there tomorrow." He looked around at the others situated at the other tables before he took a daring step towards the table and placed his hands over it, leaning into his eye space. "Clark is probably there all vulnerable right now and begging for his luscious red lips to be tak—"_

_"Hold your tongue." Batman growled, but Flash quickly noted the sudden reddening over his cheeks. Bingo. _

_"All I'm saying is that you're losing your chance if you don't go now." He turned on his heels and walked away though he hadn't expected to have tray thrown at his head. Blinking, Flash stared at the ground wondering what had just happened and rolled around to look back at the table but Batman was already gone._

_"... Ow." He grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He totally saw that coming.. They all did._

Bruce shook his head out of his thoughts and looked back at Clark's ranting frame. The thought of kissing those salvageable lips, taking those glasses and throwing them aside, pecking each eye and running his hand down his damp yet silky hair wasn't as far fetched as it was when he was practically pounding on the door cursing Flash for his insites. On the other hand, would it be wise to berate him while he was tipsy?

He was here for the purpose to comfort him, though how far would he be able to push? His curiosity caused him to take his chances, as his hands snuck over Clark's loose tie and press a light kiss over his lips.

Seconds went by with no reaction: Bruce wondered if it was a victory after all. He slowly pulled away to inspect his expression, and it wasn't really the one he was expecting. Oh hell — "Clark, damnit no!"

**"BLARGJH!"**

—

Clark groaned from where he was. For the last few minutes he was coping in and out of consciousness. This was why he tried to stay away from liquor and cigarettes—sure his body was big, but it couldn't support the heat as much as he would have liked.

Slowly, his eyes turned towards his bedroom door as a figure moved into view, a white towel—drenched and slightly red—over his arm. "Bats..?" He mumbled gently, "..erm .. what happened?"

"You threw up." Bruce mumbled in a matter—of—fact manner. He thought that part was obvious, "I carried you to bed, and you've been going through these ongoing episodes of conscious and unconsciousness ever si— don't you dare fall asleep again!" He growled out as Clark's eyes suddenly began to waver, but Clark quickly averted them wide in order to stay awake.

"Okay and okay.. and why is my _new_ towel red?" He asked him in curiousity, his hand resting over his stomach as he felt a little spark through his body. He didn't sound mad though - more tired than anything.

Bruce blinked, looking down at his leg, at the towel then back at Clark. He scratched his cheek lightly and looked away, "Well I didn't see the glass when I was bringing you over and chipped my foot. I swept it up, but one question—what was broken glass doing on the floor in the first place?"

Clark blinked.. That caught his attention. He had to take a few moments to remember the earlier events before giving a proper explanation—though in the end, he did feel quite guilty. "Ughm.. well you know how my neighbor—"

"Mrs. Beadabantian - "

"Yeah, her, complain about the noise? Well.. that was the noise."

He shut his eyes as Bruce's pools struck him, and it took a few moments for him to realize what was going on as he felt the bed juggle a little by the weight Bruce placed on it. Bruce's knee flicked over the edge of the bed, and he moved forward slightly to take advantage of their closeness, his bandaged foot placed upwards in the air to make sure he didn't go into another fit of curses again.

Clark opened his eyes to look up at Bruce's figure and he was only able to stare in awe.

"Kent.." Bruce questioned him slowly, "Do you remember what happened before all this?"

Clark thought about it—his chest felt heavy again although it may also have been due to the alcohol. ".. Lois..?"

"No." Bruce said firmly which made Clark blink, "You and me."

Clark wondered what he was going on about. Him and Bats? What happened with him and Ba—Oh my god; "Y.. you kissed me!" He fumbled out, "Why?"

Bruce's head swung downward as if he was facepalming. Seriously, now? "Oblivious as always." He grumbled out under his breath, "I like you, you idiot."

"... What?"

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair — his own hair as he thought about it. "I've held myself back because I thought you were straight.. and then I got to know you and realized, yes maybe not."

Clark's eye twitched and he stared at him—from above—with a blank expression over his face. "But what about.. and how about.." He stumbled for his words, "... So you like me?"

"Yes."

"Superman or Kent?"

Groan, not this again. Bruce silently edged forward in order for their faces to be aligned as he looked him down intimidatingly in those dark blue eyes of his. "Does it really matter?" He asked, leaning forward although a tad bit hesitant as he didn't want to scare him off.. or possibly get another round of vomit on his shoe. He would be patient of course. At least there wasn't some woman nagging at him from outside the door for his friend's disturbance- at least not now anyway. "I like you Kal—El."

The tears had came as fast as both of them really expected—and he felt almost ashamed of showing Batman this side of him. It was the alcohol, he tried to reason! Bruce felt slightly uncomfortable and Clark knew it over the tenseness. His hand went to his face as he moved his glasses away, rubbing his eyes with the back of his other arm which were firmly pulled away from his face to stare into those slightly emotionless twinkle that Batman so carried. "Bats.." He mumbled under his breath.

"It's Bruce Wayne actually." Bruce replied as he pressed a cold kiss over his mouth—over those bitter yet sweet lips—that created a sensation of unharmful bliss between the two.

And Clark— ".. Bruce.." He repeated the name under his breath, ".. And I'm Superman!"


End file.
